“I need to talk to a nurse,” I say, slipping out the door and walking past him. Now that I’m up and about, I can feel my exhaustion after all. I’m not quite as fine as I assumed I was.

“Wait—my queen!” the guard calls from behind me. “You should not be out of bed.”

I ignore him and continue towards the main desk on this floor concocting a quick plan to ditch my extra shadow.

The nurse manning the desk glances up when she hears my guard and me coming. Her face lights with surprise—I’m now that recognizable—before falling back into a careful mask.

“Do you need anything, my queen?” She doesn’t demand to know why I’m out of bed, nor does she rush to get me back in my room.

Whatever operation was performed on me, she seems to feel I’m in good enough health to walk around.

“Can I speak with you in private?”

The nurse nods, her brow wrinkling. My guard still stands behind me, and I shoot him a look.

“I’ve been commanded to not let you out of my sight if you leave your room,” he explains.

I turn back to the nurse and lean in close. “I need to use the bathroom and I’d like to not be shadowed like a prisoner.”

The nurse’s gaze moves from me to the guard.

“Is there anyway you can make sure he stays out here?” I whisper.

The nurse mulls this over, then finally nods. “I think that’ll be just fine,” she says, her voice low. “Need anything else?”

“Just directions to the bathroom.”

“Down the hall and to your left.” The nurse nods in the appropriate direction.

Perfect. I’ll be out of the guard and the nurse’s line of sight.

“Thanks,” I say, flashing her a genuine smile.

I push away from the counter. My guard is now looking at me suspiciously. I brush past him. When he begins to follow me, the nurse clears her throat. “Sir, sir—yes you,” I hear from behind me.

I don’t wait to listen to the rest. I move down the corridor and turn left, just so that it looks like I’m going to the bathroom. At the end of this hall is a stairwell, and right before it, a storage closet hangs slightly open. I stop by it and peek in. Medical supplies and a spare pair of scrubs rest on the shelves. I grab the scrubs and change into them quickly, just in case whoever left the door open is about to come back.

As I unfold the soft material, a keycard slips out. I pick it up and glance at the face of the male nurse whom these scrubs belong to. On it is a barcode, probably to allow him access into restricted areas.

The whole thing could not have gone better had I planned it.